


The Beat of Hearts and Wings

by superhoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragon Riders, Dragons, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Miniature Dragons, dcsmolthings2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 03:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15964217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: Dean and Castiel have spent years dreaming of the day they will be assigned their roles at the Draconium, where dragons and humans work, live, and train together to ensure the peace and prosperity of the realm. But when Dean is granted the coveted role of dragon rider and Castiel is assigned to the care of the smallest dragons, their lifelong friendship is suddenly put to the test. With the help of dragons both large and small, surely Dean and Castiel will find their way back to their former closeness-- or maybe even to something more.





	The Beat of Hearts and Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the first round of the DeanCas Smol Things challenge, and I'm so pleased to be sharing it with you all! Thank you to Ri and Diamond for being such excellent co-mods, and to Diamond for reading over this for me before posting.

The early spring breeze still carries a hint of winter’s chill, but the sun shines brightly on the meadow where Dean and Castiel lie. Castiel has his eyes closed, face tilted up towards the sky like he’s absorbing the warmth of the sun. Dean watches the way the wind ruffles the dark hair that falls over his best friend’s forehead and is struck by a sudden urge to smooth it away from his face. 

Strange. He and Castiel have lain like this time after time, and never before has he felt that particular desire to reach out and touch. 

Dean rolls onto his back and looks up at the sky, gauging the sun’s position. Any minute now-- and yes, there it is, a dark blot approaching rapidly from the east.

“Cas.” He pokes him in the shoulder. “Cas, are you asleep? It’s time.”

Grumbling, Castiel opens his eyes, bluer even than the sky above them. They go wide as he tracks the movement of the dark blot, which is gradually forming itself into a proper image as it comes nearer. 

The air rushes over them, flattening the grass and sweeping Cas’ hair into disarray as the enormous red dragon passes over the meadow where they lie. 

Dean and Castiel have been waiting for this moment for what feels like an eternity. Every year, when spring breaks winter’s icy grip on the land, the red dragon flies free, summoning those who have come of age to be assigned their roles in the Draconium, the vast complex where the realm’s dragons are housed and trained. Growing up in the nearest village, Dean and Castiel have watched the red dragon’s progress every spring, counting down until their twenty-first years with great impatience.

Now, they set off for the Draconium on foot, Castiel a few strides ahead. “I can’t believe it’s finally time,” he calls back over his shoulder, a grin lighting his usually solemn face. “Dean, you’re going to be a rider, I’m sure of it.”

“So are you.” The riders are some of the most honoured citizens of the realm, revered for their deep connection to the largest and fiercest of the dragons, those closest to the giants of old. In the dark days, dragons were feared and hunted, all the largest among them killed off. But then the famous queen Celeste declared an end to dragon hunting and established the Draconium instead, a place where humans and dragons would live and work together in harmony. The riders are the shining example of Queen Celeste’s vision, and both Dean and Castiel have long dreamed to be welcomed to their ranks. “Just imagine it, Cas. The two of us, side by side, soaring through the skies on dragonback.”

“We won’t have to imagine it for much longer,” Cas says.

Dean grins at him, exhilaration coursing through his veins. “Come on, I’ll race you to the walls!”

They’re both panting by the time they reach the gate, but the guard who waves them in winks as he does. Dean barely notices the soaring walls, the gleaming grey stone, the banners flapping in the breeze, the enormous crowd of other youths. All his attention is directed to the far side of the courtyard, where two women in deep blue robes stand, hands clasped. Dean has heard whispers about Billie and Rowena, the Draconium’s Overseers, but this is the first time he’s ever seen them in person.

“Let’s get closer.” Castiel reaches between them and takes hold of Dean’s hand, tugging him through the crush of bodies. Dean jolts at the touch, but doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t want to lose Cas in the chaos. 

It appears they’ve arrived just in time. Fighting their way to the front of the crowd, they draw up short when Billie begins to speak. “Welcome,” she says, her melodious voice carrying across the suddenly silent courtyard. “Welcome to the Draconium, and to our ranks. You have all indicated your interest in joining us, and your presence here today confirms that desire. We have devoted many hours to the selection process, and we are pleased with the division we have devised.”

Rowena offers a small smile before picking up the thread of Billie’s speech. “We will proceed with the assignment ceremony, beginning with the farthest villages. When your name is called, please step forward. You will then be given your role. These positions are non-negotiable. You may decide to leave the Draconium at any point, but you may not assume another role among us.”

Dean and Cas exchange nervous glances. As residents of one of the closest villages to the Draconium, they will be among the last to be assigned. Cas’ hand tightens around Dean’s, and Dean returns the grip just as fiercely.

Nearly a hundred other names are called before theirs. The majority of the youths are assigned to the midlings, the medium-sized dragons who are most numerous in their land. Midlings are clever and sociable, but large enough to be fierce when needed, and often accompany squads of soldiers or act as companions to noble families. Dean cheers when his friend Benny joins the ranks of the midling trainers, knowing it has long been his dream to serve as a royal guard with a dragon at his side.

“Dean Winchester.” Billie’s voice is commanding, ringing out across the yard. Dean freezes, the weight of his expectations keeping him from moving forward. Cas reaches out and gives him a little push, and he stumbles forward towards his destiny.

He squares his shoulders and meets Billie’s gaze. Whatever happens, he will face it with dignity. 

“Rider Class.”

Dean’s surroundings fade away, the echo of Billie’s words the only thing that matters. Rider Class. He’s going to be a dragon rider, just like his parents before him. His knees buckle, but a strong arm wraps around his waist, supporting him. He looks up into Cas’ face and smiles so broadly his cheeks hurt. “You’re going to be next, Cas.”

Cas smiles, but his shoulders are tense as he loosens his grip on Dean. Two more names are called, and Cas is the only remaining youth unassigned. Dean reaches down and squeezes his hand. “Deep breaths,” he advises.

“Castiel Novak,” Rowena calls. 

Dean watches as Cas steps forward, hands clenched at his side and head held proudly high. He looks severe and distant, but Dean knows better, knows that beneath his poised exterior, Cas feels things just as deeply as he does. Perhaps even more so.

“Miniature class.”

A low murmur runs through the crowd. The miniature dragons, the size of an average human’s hand, need little attention. They serve little purpose other than bringing smiles to people’s faces, particularly children. Many years pass without anyone new being assigned to their care.

Dean wants to protest, wants to shout that there must be some mistake. Cas is bold and fit and smart. He should be a rider, like Dean, not stuck playing nurse to a bunch of tiny, useless dragons. He takes an instinctive step forward, then freezes under the weight of Billie and Rowena’s combined stares.

Cas turns, his face pale. He swallows roughly, then shakes his head. “It’s an honour,” he says. “Few people are entrusted to look after the smallest dragons. The Overseers have chosen me for a reason. It’s an honour.”

“Yeah.” Dean pushes aside his own feelings and summons an encouraging smile. “You’re right. The Overseers never make mistakes. And besides, we’re both still here, right? Where we’ve always wanted to be?”

“Yes.” Cas doesn’t look at him as he answers, and Dean’s guilt rises in his throat like bile. He would give up being a rider if it would wipe that terrible expression from Cas’ face. “Just like we’ve always wanted.”

***

Despite their best efforts, it isn’t always simple for Dean and Cas to spend time together. The Draconium is enormous, and with their different assignments, they are generally occupied in distant parts of the complex. They have a free day every week, but they don’t always line up, and Dean often spends his going back to the village to visit Sam and Bobby. Cas doesn’t have any other family, so he prefers to stay in their new home.

The only time they’re guaranteed to see one another is at supper every night in the hall. All those who live and work in the Draconium take the meal together, and Dean and Cas quickly secure themselves a spot in the far corner of the hall where they can meet and discuss their training. 

“So, how are your little friends doing?” Dean asks one evening, about two weeks into their time at the Draconium. 

He’s surprised at the genuine smile that crosses Cas’ face. “They’re good. They’re so smart, Dean. All dragons are, of course, but they have a cunning about them, and a sense of mischief.” He runs one hand through his hair, then deposits a flower petal on the table. “See? They like to tangle my hair up and drop petals in it. Joshua says they’re teasing me.”

Joshua, Dean knows, is Cas’ mentor, the only other caretaker of the miniature dragons. They spend a great deal of time together, but Dean hasn’t met him yet. He wonders what he’s like, how old he is. It has been a long time since anyone new was assigned to look after the miniature dragons.

“And you?” Cas asks. “Have you met your partner yet?”

“I think so.” Dean takes a sip of his water, holding the cup close to his chest. “Nothing has been determined yet, it’s too early for the pairs to be announced. But she’s amazing, Cas. Her name is Nightsong, and she’s one of the biggest, but sleek and deadly and all black until the sun hits her scales and turns them all the colours of the rainbow. When we train together, it’s like--”

He trails off at the look on Cas’ face. His chin is propped on his hands, his eyes wistful. Dean swallows roughly and shrugs. “But like I said, it’s too early for me to know.”

He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, not when Cas is looking at him like that. Dean knows Cas is thrilled for him, would never resent him for landing the assignment they both dreamed of, but Dean’s guilt threatens to drown him regardless. He’s being insensitive, talking about rider training so much. 

Dean casts about for a neutral topic and settles on the midlings. “I saw Benny the other day,” he says. “He had a whole pack of midlings with him, four or five of them, and he was trying to put them through some exercises. It was hilarious. None of them were cooperating.”

Cas smiles, and the tightness in his eyes eases. “I would have liked to see that.”

They’re soon drawn into a conversation with the others at their table, sharing their favourite stories from the long history of the Draconium. Cas listens and nods along, but doesn’t contribute much. Dean eats heartily, tired from long days completing training exercises, but the food tastes like ashes in his mouth.

As they rise to leave the table and make their way to their respective dormitories, Cas lays a hand on Dean’s arm. “Dean, wait.”

Dean pauses, leaning in closer so they won’t be overheard. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Cas shakes his head. “I just-- I miss you.”

Dean’s heart turns over in his chest. “I miss you too.”

“Maybe, on your next free day, you could come visit me in the miniatures’ gardens?” All residents of the Draconium are welcome there, though few bother to visit.

“Yeah, sure.” It will mean one less trip to see Sam and Bobby, but Dean doesn’t care. If it will ease the new tension between him and Cas, he’ll do it. “I’ll be there.”

***

The garden is beautiful. Enclosed by grey stone walls, a fountain splashes merrily in the centre of neatly trimmed shrubs and riotous blooms. Castiel is perched on the edge of the fountain, five or six of the miniature dragons flying in circles around his head.

Dean stops and observes them, a smile tugging at his lips. Castiel is saying something to the dragons in his deep, precise voice, and they soon flutter down to line up beside him on the fountain, their tiny heads all pointed in Dean’s direction.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas looks up and smiles at him. “I’d like you to meet my friends.”

There are basic rules for human-dragon interaction. Always approach slowly, maintain eye contact, and don’t make any loud noises. Dean follows all these principles, moving forward with one hand outstretched. The smallest of the dragons, the pale blue one, leans forward and nips at his fingers. Dean winces and pulls his hand back, setting the others into a flurry of tiny wings as they take to the air once more.

“I don’t think they like me,” Dean says.

“That wasn’t very polite, Maude.” Castiel reaches out and the pale blue dragon lands on his hand, chittering softly. “Dean is my friend. He means you no harm.”

Looking back at Dean, Castiel offers a rueful smile. “They don’t take well to strangers, and they can likely smell the larger dragons on you. It makes them nervous.”

“Oh.” Dean looks around, then picks up a fallen rose petal from the ground and rubs it over his hands. He extends them once more and waits.

A minute passes, and just as Dean is about to pull back and admit defeat, the white dragon darts forward. Expecting another bite from tiny but sharp teeth, Dean braces himself. Instead, the dragon flutters over his hand, then lands on it with a small thump. 

“Well done.” Castiel nods in approval. “That was very brave of you, Agatha.”

“Hello, Agatha,” Dean says, keeping his voice low. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Encouraged by her initiative, the other miniature dragons come closer, swooping around Dean’s head and shoulders like tiny, glittering birds. None of them settle on him, but Cas assures him this is good progress, and Dean finds himself grinning proudly as Agatha permits him to stroke a gentle finger down her back. 

One of the others, a startling shade of magenta, curls around Cas’ neck like a scarf. “This is Eustace,” Cas says. “He’s become rather attached to me.”

It’s clear Cas and the dragons have established a deep bond. Watching them together, Dean’s guilt over being selected as a rider without Cas begins to dissipate. His friend looks content-- no, more than that, he looks happy. 

“They’re so clever,” Cas says, watching fondly as Maude and Agatha chase each other playfully around a rose bush. “Everyone underestimates them, but Joshua and I are training them as scouts. With a few basic signals, they could carry important messages that can’t be intercepted by enemies, and they’re small enough to avoid detection when stealth is necessary.”

“Aren’t you afraid to risk them that way?” They look so peaceful, here in this garden. Dean can’t imagine them in the wider world, the vast skies where he will soon roam atop a larger dragon’s back.

“Of course.” Cas shrugs, disrupting Eustace, who cheeps at him before settling around his neck again. “Just like you’ll worry about Nightsong when you begin your missions. They may be small, but they can still contribute.”

Dean doesn’t bother correcting Cas’ assumption that Nightsong will be his dragon partner. Instead, they sit in silence, watching the miniature dragons flutter past them, dreaming of the future.

***

As the months pass, Dean and Castiel have even fewer opportunities to see one another. Dean’s training often takes him outside the walls of the Draconium, returning long after the communal supper hour has passed. Castiel’s efforts with the miniature dragons have him preoccupied with weighty volumes on non-verbal signals they can be taught, and he often arrives at the table with such books in hand.

After five months at the Draconium, the day Dean has been anxiously awaiting arrives. The pairing ceremony, in which dragon and human rider teams are announced. It plays out much like the assignment ceremony, but on a smaller scale. Dean stands with the six other new riders, all dressed in their best uniforms, and waits for his name to be called. Glancing out into the crowd, he thinks he sees Castiel’s dark head, but it’s difficult to tell for sure.

“Dean Winchester,” Rowena calls out.

Dean takes a deep breath and steps forward. Billie and Rowena’s faces are impassive, but he thinks he detects a slight smirk on Billie’s lips. He can’t decide if it bodes well or ill. 

“Your partner will be the dragon Nightsong,” Billie announces.

Somehow, he always knew. The bond between dragon and human riders is strong, and Dean felt it humming in his veins the first time he laid eyes on Nightsong. He accepts the gold pin in the shape of a dragon’s wings that Rowena secures to the front of his tunic, and when he turns to wave at the crowd, his eyes lock onto Castiel’s. There’s no resentment there, no bitterness, only pure joy. Dean waves back, hoping Cas is as happy as he feels in this moment.

They have a brief moment after the ceremony, before Dean is swept away in the celebrations. Castiel catches Dean in a strong embrace, and Dean rests his cheek against Castiel’s dark hair. It smells like roses. The miniature dragons must have been up to their tricks again. “I’m so proud of you,” Castiel whispers. “Congratulations, Dean.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean pulls away with an awkward cough. “I’m really glad you came. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Castiel smiles at him. It might just be a trick of the torchlight, but Dean thinks his eyes look a bit sad. “Go on. I know you want to go see Nightsong. We’ll talk later.”

“Later,” Dean promises, and then he’s borne away in a crowd of well-wishers, escorting him towards the dragon barracks to see his new partner.

The revelry lasts well into the night, and the next day, Dean’s training is intensified far beyond his expectations. The hours are long and the exercises grueling, but having that time with Nightsong, feeling her wings shift as they launch themselves into the air, makes every ache and sleepless night worth it. Dean doesn’t even get a chance to see Cas again before they depart on a two-week journey into the wilds of the realm, learning foraging skills and survival tactics that will be of certain use on dangerous future missions.

Dean and the other new riders arrive back at the Draconium on a beautiful autumn day, laughing and teasing one another. They’re greeted with indulgent smiles by the guards at the gate, and as Dean looks up towards the tower, he thinks he sees Rowena’s slender figure watching them approach. He lifts a hand in greeting, then follows the others back to the barracks to give Nightsong some much-needed pampering.

He’s in the middle of filing the claws on her left forepaw when a sharp cheeping draws his attention to the barracks door. The entire pack of miniature dragons zooms towards him, frantic cries spilling from their tiny mouths. Nightsong huffs, tracking their movements with wary eyes, but Dean soothes her with a steady hand on her flank. 

“What is it, Agatha?” he asks, focusing on the white dragon. “Did you get bored with your garden?”

Eustace swoops closer and drops something into Dean’s hand. Frowning, Dean looks at the scrap of fabric more closely, and an icy feeling settles in his chest. He knows this particular shade of blue-- it’s from Cas’ favourite tunic.

Nightsong growls, picking up on Dean’s mood. He leans more heavily against her, swallowing roughly. Eustace lands on her head and peeps insistently, an image that would be comical if not for the dread roiling in Dean’s stomach. He wishes more than ever he could understand dragon communication. 

After a moment, Nightsong huffs again and nudges Dean with her snout. She pushes him towards the packs he’s only just unfastened from her back, the small dragons settling onto them and digging their claws into the leather straps. “We’re going after him?” Dean asks.

Agatha detaches herself from the others and lands on his shoulder as Dean attaches the pack to Nightsong’s midsection once more. A soft, rhythmic sound, almost like a purr, spills from her mouth, soothing him despite his worry. He climbs onto Nightsong’s back, the other riders watching in surprise as they take to the air.

Eustace remains perched on Nightsong’s head, a tiny blob of magenta amongst all that black. Dean can’t hear his little chirps over the wind rushing past them, but he seems to be giving Nightsong directions. The other miniatures dragons cling tightly to the pack, their tiny wings glinting in the sunlight. Dean holds the scrap of fabric from Cas’ tunic between his hands and prays they won’t be too late.

Eustace directs them past the village where Dean and Castiel grew up, towards the forest beyond. Dean wonders what Castiel and the miniature dragons were doing so far from the Draconium, but his curiosity will have to be satisfied at a later date. For now, all he cares about is finding Cas.

He can see the stream shimmering through the trees, and Eustace seems to be guiding them along its path. Nightsong gradually descends, twisting in the air to avoid the tree branches that rush up towards them. Agatha peeps worriedly from her perch on Dean’s shoulder, and he reaches up to stroke her back, comforting himself as much as her. 

They land in a clearing that surround a small pool where the stream widens out after tumbling down a rock-covered slope. Dean slides off Nightsong’s back, already searching for Cas’ prone form lying somewhere on the grass.

“Dean?”

It’s Cas’ voice, but weaker than Dean has ever heard it. The miniature dragons set off towards the pool in a flurry of shimmering wings, all squeaking frantically. Dean stumbles after them, taking in the situation at a glance.

Cas is up to his shoulders in the water of the pool, his face pale and his teeth chattering. “My foot is caught,” he explains, voice hoarse. “I can’t lever it free, and the dragons can’t swim.”

Eustace is flying in circles around Cas’ head, suddenly quiet now that they’ve been reunited. The others line up on the bank, their heads all turning towards Dean as he hurriedly strips off his own tunic and boots, then dives into the pool.

The water is shockingly cold, stealing the breath from Dean’s lungs. “It’s going to be okay, Cas,” he says. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

“I know.” Cas manages a smile despite the fear in his eyes. “I told them to get help. I’m not surprised they went right to you.”

Dean dives back under the water, thankful that he and Cas spent so many summers swimming in this very stream as they were growing up. Reaching the bottom of the pool, he identifies the problem immediately: Cas’ foot has sunk into the mud and his leg has gotten wedged between two large rocks. Dean sets to work digging the larger of the two free, coming up for air a few times as needed. Nightsong creeps closer to the bank as well, watching for Dean every time he resurfaces.

With one last push, the boulder rolls away. Dean tugs at Cas’ leg, and it pops free. Breaking the surface, he’s relieved to see Cas dragging himself out onto the bank, the miniature dragons swarming over him with small cries of joy.

Dean hauls himself out of the water. Tempting as it is to stay collapsed on the bank, he knows it’s not wise for Cas to stay in those wet clothes. His body temperature must be dangerously low after all that time in the water. Digging through the packs at Nightsong’s side, he finds the spare trousers and tunic he keeps there and brings them over to Cas.

He kneels down at Cas’ side, resting a cautious hand on his shoulder. “You should change out of your wet things,” he says, heedless of his own similarly waterlogged state. He wasn’t in the water nearly so long. “Catch your breath for a few minutes.”

Cas opens his eyes and looks up at Dean. “Thank you,” he says.

“Hey.” Dean squeezes his shoulder. “I know I’ve been a crappy friend lately, but I’m still your friend, Cas.”

Turning away, he waits while Cas changes into the dry clothes. “You’re not, you know.”

“What?” Dean frowns, though he knows Cas can’t see him. “Not what?”

“A bad friend.” Cas rests a hand on his shoulder, spinning Dean’s body so they face each other once more. “We’ve both been busy, Dean. It’s only natural we would drift apart. But the little ones wouldn’t have gone to fetch you if they didn’t know I trust you more than anyone else in the world.”

Dean swallows roughly, the weight of Cas’ gaze too much for him to handle on top of the stress of the past few hours. “I just moved some rocks around. They’re the ones who came to get me in the first place.”

“I know.” Cas reaches up and pets Eustace, who is draped around his neck once more. “I told you, they’re very clever.”

“They are,” Dean agrees. He clears his throat. “You think you’re up for the trip back?”

Cas nods, then casts a hesitant glance at Nightsong, who watches them from a few feet away, neck proudly arched. “Will she let me ride her?”

It’s a good question. Dean strokes his hand down her snout, then beckons Cas forward. “This is my friend Castiel,” he tells her. “I know you’re strong enough to carry both of us home, but we won’t do that without your permission.”

Cas keeps his shoulders square as he approaches, one hand outstretched. Nightsong sniffs delicately at his hand, and then Eustace lets out an imperious peep. Nightsong draws back, startled, and for one horrified moment Dean thinks she’s about to lash out. But then she settles, huffing, and lowers her neck, nudging Cas towards her back.

Cas lets out a shaky sigh and grins at Dean. “I believe that’s a yes.”

The smaller dragons settle into place, Eustace on Cas’ shoulder and Agatha on Dean’s. Nightsong waits with visible impatience until Maude peeps at her, and then she launches herself into the air, seemingly unbothered by Cas’ extra weight on her back.

“This is incredible.” Cas turns to look at Dean, a grin splitting his face. He shows no trace of fear, and Dean wonders again if he regrets not being granted this path. Cas would have been amazing as a rider. “Thank you, Dean. For letting me experience this.”

“Don’t thank me,” Dean says gruffly. “It was Nightsong’s decision.”

Cas smiles and reaches down to pat her flank. “Thank you, Nightsong,” he says. 

She huffs, and Dean swears she flies right through a cloud on purpose. Show-off. She rolls sideways, and Cas slides precariously in his seat. Dean reaches out and grabs his shoulders to steady him, wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist and clicking his tongue at Nightsong. This is not the time for dramatics.

“Sorry,” he says. “She gets a bit smug sometimes.”

Cas just laughs. “I don’t mind.” They’ve steadied out, but he makes no move to disentangle himself from Dean’s hold. In fact, he leans back so his back is pressed against Dean’s chest and settles his head under Dean’s chin.

They stay like that, Dean’s heart pounding rapidly in his chest, until the walls of the Draconium come into sight. Cas turns slightly, looking up into Dean’s face. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a question in his eyes, and Dean knows the answer. He has known it for a long time. 

He leans forward, and Cas meets him halfway. His lips are chapped but warm, and they press against Dean’s with the urgency of long-buried affection. Dean pours all the emotions of the day into that kiss, tightening his grip on Cas’ waist as the kiss turns deeper. 

Eustace peeps at them in offense as he risks being squished between their bodies. Cas laughs and pulls back, then presses another, briefer kiss to Dean’s lips. “This probably isn’t the best setting for such a moment.”

Dean grins at him, his happiness threatening to burst forth from his lips in wild laughter. “I think it’s perfect. The wide open skies around us, on my dragon’s back with yours all looking on.” He kisses Cas again, just because he can. “Besides. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Me too.” Cas leans back against Dean’s chest and lets out a sigh of contentment. “But let’s agree not to wait until another life-threatening situation arises before we see each other again, alright?”

This time, Dean does laugh. He presses his face into Castiel’s hair, inhaling the scent of roses, and says, “Alright.”


End file.
